


kiss me with adventure

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Derek Has a Crush on Stiles, Emissaries, F/M, House Party, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: “Are you on drugs?  The guy only knows my name because we’ve been in school together for so long.”“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Heather said smugly.“Why?”“Because he’s been staring at  you for the past ten minutes.”





	kiss me with adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Day 28, woo!

“I don’t want to go to Jackson’s stupid party, Scott.”

“Stiles, _please_? I really need you there with me,” Scott pleaded with his best friend in front of Stiles’ locker. 

Stiles frowned and shook his head. “Allison’s gonna be there, right? Why do you even want me there, then?”

“For moral support!” Scott exclaimed. “I’m going to be attempting the biggest, scariest thing I’ve ever done. If I fall flat on my face I need you to pick me up, hand me a shot, and make sure I don’t remember the sting of rejection.”

Stiles shoved his books in his locker, turned to face Scott and put his hands on his shoulders. “Scott, there’s no way she’s going to turn you down. You guys are already unofficially going to this thing together, right?”

“Going as a group to a party and going one-on-one to a movie are different, and you know it. Please Stiles, I know you hate Jackson but do this for me?”

Stiles sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. There was nothing he wanted to do less in life than go to Jackson Whittemore’s party Saturday night but the bro code between he and Scott was rock solid. When he opened his eyes again he saw Derek Hale leaning sullenly against the lockers a few down from them, staring intently at them. When Derek noticed he’d been spotted he turned around quickly and spun the dial on one of the locks while glaring at it. After a few seconds the door jerked open with a muffled clang and Derek’s upper half was obscured. 

Stiles shook his head and mumbled to himself, “Since when is his locker there?” He shook his head and refocused on Scott.

“What’s the absolute soonest I can leave? I’m talking from the moment my tires hit his property line and game night pizza is all on you next time.”

Stiles looked up to watch Scott’s reaction and noticed Derek left his locker and was walking purposefully down the hall, parting the crowd of students like a leather-jacketed Moses. Scott’s wide sheepish grin pulled Stiles’ attention back.

“Yes, thank you Stiles! This is awesome! What should I wear? Do you think I should buy a new shirt?” Scott rambled ecstatically and started to drift off down the hall with a dreamy look in his eyes.

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed the books he needed before slamming his locker shut. “Hey, wait up! I still don’t have an answer on how long I have to stay!” He hurried after Scott, barely registering that one of the lockers a few down swung open, lock visibly broken and hanging off the door.

***

Stiles was in the middle of his homework when his father, the Beacon Hills Sheriff, came home, stepping through the back door just as the daylight started to creep below the horizon.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted him without looking up. “There’s a plate of spaghetti in the fridge for you.”

“Not that I’m not appreciative of you cooking dinner all the time but if it’s those squash noodles I’m gonna be ticked off,” John replied as he immediately ducked into the hall closet where his weapons safe was stashed in the back of it. 

Stiles listened for the routine beeps as he unlocked and relocked the safe and then said, “No, I didn’t use spaghetti squash this time, it’s pasta.” He ducked his head and didn’t bother qualifying that it was pasta made out of spinach and peas. If his dad figured it out he’d go back to the drawing board but with any luck John wouldn’t notice it wasn’t the regular kind.

Stiles continued with his homework as John busied himself with getting his supper plate together. When he sat down at the table to eat he had to push a couple pieces of paper back toward the academic A-bomb that was Stiles and his “study sprawl”.

“Sorry,” Stiles said with a sigh and reached out to shuffle the papers into a different pile. John glanced down at the papers closest to him as he took a bite of pasta. Stiles slyly watched his father’s face for any visceral reaction to it but saw nothing. 

“What’s this for?” John asked curiously, holding up a page that probably looked like gibberish to anyone else.

“Combinations of native Californian ingredients for healing salves. I think Deaton’s cooking up some kind of plan for the final to throw us into a real life situation to gather and prepare everything,” Stiles explained.

“I thought you dropped that Emissary class,” John 

“Pack Application of Intermediary Studies,” Stiles corrected him, although at least his father used the nickname for it that wasn’t derogatory. Other students, especially betas bitter about not being an alpha despite the outstanding odds against them, called it the “Pass” class because it was often considered to be useless since so few people actually continued on to become emissaries. Humans and werewolves alike turned their nose up at the class and somewhere over the years it got a reputation of being a class for people who wanted to flirt or fuck their way to the position. 

Stiles took it because he honestly enjoyed the subject matter and learning about the world he grew up in. He had no delusions about becoming an emissary in the future but there was something that intrigued him about the talents of one. He was in the senior class and had already learned a great deal about survival techniques and how to identify edible plants, among the more mundane topics in the three years he opted to take it. 

He also learned about the werewolves themselves and threw himself into reading up on and studying the less popular aspects of pack culture. Traditions that had long since died out and things that were sometimes even looked upon by derision by the werewolves themselves. Soul bonds, for instance, was one of the eye-rolling subjects they spent some time on but Stiles continued to look into it for future papers, as well.

“Sorry, but seriously. Weren't you going to take advanced biology or something instead of this?” John pressed.

“I thought about it but the technical levels are comparable. And I like it,” Stiles told him simply. John gave Stiles a considering look and then nodded. 

“Glad to hear you’re so interested.” John went back to eating his supper and watched as Stiles returned to his work, looking up information and jotting notes down in some kind of organized system only he understood. After another ten minutes Stiles let out a long sigh and shut his laptop closed with a satisfying snap.

“One of my deputies, McBride, just had a baby a few weeks early so I ’m working a double shift on Saturday to give him a full weekend with his family. I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”

“That’s fine by me, Scott wants me to tag along to Jackson Whittemore’s party that night for a couple hours until he works up the courage to ask a girl to the movies,” Stiles told him wryly. 

“Be home before his neighbors call in a noise complaint and get it shut down.”

Stiles snorted. “Will do, thanks for the heads up.” He gathered up his things and shoved them in his bag, ready to do something mindless for the rest of the evening.

“And call me if you’re going to drink!” John reminded him before he walked out of the room.

“I won’t, but okay.”

“Fine, don’t piss anyone off then,” John threw back and Stiles laughed.

“I’ll stop doing that the day you quit sneaking donuts from the bakery on the corner by the station.” Stiles mimed tossing a basketball through the hoop and then left for his room as John sat back in his chair and grumbled to himself.

***

“Allison’s gonna be here with Lydia. Don’t you still have a crush on her?” Scott asked as Stiles pulled into a spot to park on the street outside the Whittemore house. There were already kids spilling out of the house on the sidewalks, clutching red solo cups. Stiles was sure that if he breathed deeply enough he could smell the wolfsbane in the cups, a thicky pungent and permeating smell Jackson’s party was known for.

Stiles shrugged at Scott’s question. “If she started talking to me I’d probably fall over my tongue, not gonna lie, but I think that ten-year plan I had to make her like me was just how long I’d think I was in love with her.”

“Gonna look around at anyone else? Danny’s single again, I think” Scott asked slyly, clearly eyeing the potential suitors they passed on their way to the front door of the house.

“Doubtful,” Stiles snorted. “And Danny only gives me the time of day when I’m standing in the way between him and the shower in the locker room. Besides, I think one of us going through an existential crisis over dating at a time is all we can handle.”

“Speaking of,” Scott breathed as they stepped into the house and saw Allison standing almost directly in front of them in the foyer, standing with Lydia and Jackson. “Oh, shit.”

“You’re fine, this is good,” Stiles murmured back lowly, trying to make sure only Scott heard him as he turned his head to the left and spoke somewhat into his shoulder. Jackson saw them first and seemed to swear to himself while Lydia just looked bored by the whole party.

When Allison spotted them she grinned widely, dimples popping. Scott gave her a dopey, doe-eyed smile back as she quickly walked over to them and grabbed his arm. 

“Scott! Hey, we were just talking about the last lacrosse game! Come tell us all about that goal you scored!” 

Scott gave Stiles a hesitant look but Stiles sighed and gestured for him to go. “Be good,” he called to his retreating figure, being dragged further into the house. 

Stiles wiped his palms on his pants, a nervous tick, and decided to go left into what looked like a sitting room. He didn’t recognize anyone there that he’d want to sit down and make an attempt at having a good time, so he continued room by room until he found the kitchen and the drinks. There were two kegs of wolfsbane-infused beer and one regular draft, which Stiles poured himself a cup of. It tasted like piss and he was sure he wouldn’t finish the whole thing but it gave him a false sense of security.

He waved at a couple people he recognized but not well enough to feel comfortable starting a conversation with them at a party. Most of the people he would hang out with most usually during a setting like this was Scott and … well, Scott. So he was truly on his own and not happy about it. 

He found a living room and tucked himself into a corner by some long drapes that might provide easy camouflage if the occasion popped up. From this angle, no one was really noticing him and he could observe as he wished. He could also see the door to the back deck and, ultimately, escape and he kept that in mind if he absolutely couldn’t take the party any longer. 

About ten minutes into party people watching Stiles heard low grumbles that coalesced into an excited hum as information spread. Stiles stepped out and curiously walked casually through the room until he was in a doorway that led back to the foyer. 

He managed to cock his ear to listen in on the people in front of him who had no idea he was there. “... even invited? Like, I know they’re pack and all but I didn’t think they were close.” 

“I think it’s like when you get married or something and you have to invite your great aunt Ethel even though she’s a total embarrassment,” her friend replied while staring at her phone. “Look, he’s already been tagged on Twitter.”

Stiles craned his neck to see over the girls’ shoulders and saw a slightly blurry picture of furrowed eyebrows and a leather jacket. “Who’s that?” he asked before he could stop himself.

The girls turned around and glared at him, then stormed off. Stiles winced but stepped into their space and looked around to see what the fuss was about. 

“People are freaking out because Derek’s here,” someone murmured to him from his left. Stiles looked over and saw Erica perched on the edge of what was no doubt an incredibly expensive display stand of some kind.

“What’s that newsworthy?” 

“Let’s just say he goes to parties less than you do,” Erica replied with a smirk and she poked him in the chest with one pointy-nailed finger. 

“Ow,” Stiles grumbled, rubbing at his sternum exaggeratedly. “I’m sure lots of people crash Jackson’s parties, this can’t be a surprise.”

Erica just shrugged but she kept watching him, which unnerved Stiles a bit. He sipped at his beer, barely repressing a wince, as he tried to think of something to say. At one point he kind of had a crush on Erica when they were younger but since then she got the bite and kept most people at bay by joining Derek’s group of leather jacketed big bad wolves in training. Stiles and Erica weren’t friends but every now and then their circles overlapped, like right now, and he was able to catch her off guard with a joke or remark and she was the old Erica again, laughing along with him. He was trying to remember the punchline to a joke he read earlier that week but before he could get it out he felt a tap on his right shoulder and looked back. 

“Heather, hey!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her. She hugged him back tightly, laughing.

“I didn’t expect to see you here!” 

“I think that’s my line,” Stiles replied. He looked back at Erica but she was gone, disappearing into the crowd before he could call her back. “Seriously, what are you doing at a Beacon Hills party?”

“Whittemore parties are legendary even across the district lines, I’ve been to a couple. How come you’re never here?”

Stiles laughed. “Does this seem like my scene?”

Heather surveyed the loud, beer-chugging teenagers and conceded. “Yeah, you got me there. So why’re you here?”

“Let’s get you a drink and I’ll tell you all about it,” Stiles offered, sticking his hand out for her to keep them together. Heather folded their hands together and stuck close to him as he led the way to the kitchen.

Before they got there someone stepped out in front of Stiles and he almost ran smack into them. His free hand shot up in an attempt to prevent a collision and looked up quickly.

“Derek, hey,” he said a bit breathlessly with his hand flat on Derek’s firm chest. He could feel heat radiating under his palm and it seemed odd to him since he didn’t remember Scott running _quite_ that warm.

“Stiles,” Derek replied flatly, nodding his head. His eyes focused on Heather behind Stiles and his expression got darker.

“Hey, this is Heather. She goes to Beacon Valley. We just ran into each other. But not like me and you right now, ha ha!” Stiles explained while he was screaming _stop talking_ in his head. Behind him, Stiles heard Heather snicker and he squeezed her hand harder than necessary. 

“That’s… good,” Derek replied tightly. 

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles realized his hand was still on Derek’s chest and he pulled it away quickly, muttering, “Sorry.” Derek and Stiles kept glancing at each other for long seconds until Heather cleared her throat behind them.

“Can I get that drink?”

“Right, yes!” Stiles said loudly and was going to excuse himself but Derek was already sliding out of their way, allowing them passage. Stiles directed Heather in front of him and before they walked out of the room he glanced back and saw Derek still staring at him.

***

A couple hours later Stiles’ beer was long-forgotten on a coffee table somewhere and he was chatting animatedly with Heather in a quieter corner. Once she got a drink they decided to stake out a spot and got lost in catching up with each other. Their moms were best friends when they were children but after his mom died staying in touch with Heather fell to the wayside except for special occasions and holidays. Since being in high school he could count on one hand the number of times they’d had a good conversation. 

“So what was that thing about?” Heather asked, gesturing in the general direction of where they ran into Derek.

“What, Derek? Nothing, why?” Stiles replied with a shrug.

“Derek _Hale_?”

Stiles made a ‘so what’ face. “Yeah, why?” 

“He’s next in line to be alpha,” Heather whispered lowly.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied slowly. “And?”

“He’s hot. Mega hot. _Beyond_ hot.”

“What are you getting at?” he asked, exasperated.

“You should go for him,” Heather suggested.

Stiles blinked, then started laughing. “Are you on drugs? The guy only knows my name because we’ve been in school together for so long.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Heather said smugly.

“Why?”

Heather rose from her seat to whisper in Stiles’ ear. “Because he’s been staring at you for the past ten minutes.”

Stiles shook his head in surprise and glanced over Heather’s shoulder to look around. Sure enough, in the opposite corner, Derek stood with his arms crossed and was glaring at them until Heather sat back down on her chair facing Stiles. 

“I don’t think... “ Stiles started slowly but Heather smacked his arm.

“You should ask him out,” she encouraged. Stiles craned his head back, prepared to give her the biggest, ‘fuck, no’, but Scott hurried up to them. 

“Hey Heather, this is perfect! Come with me, some of us are going to play Spin the Bottle,” Scott told them excitedly.

“Oooh, sounds fun! Come on, Stiles!” Heather exclaimed as she bounced to her feet and held her hand out for Stiles.

Stiles dug the nails of one hand into his palm as hard as he could as his brain raced to catch up with the overload of information he just got. Jackson’s party wasn’t just a bad idea, it was turning out to be the portal to an alternate universe because there’s no way it was possible one of the hottest guys in his school was interested in him _or_ that someone was asking him to play Spin the Bottle, even if it was Scott. 

Across the room, Derek was standing up at attention and watching their corner more than he wasn’t. Stiles pressed his lips together grimly and got to his feet, accepting Heather’s hand. 

“Spin the Bottle, here we come,” he muttered to himself as he followed Scott and Heather. 

And out of the corner of his eye, he could see a dark shadowy figure follow them.

***

“Everyone in the circle, we’re just going to start,” Lydia called out to the ten or so people standing around. “I presume everyone knows how to play.”

“And if you don’t, what the hell are you doing at my party?” Jackson added in a lazily haughty tone. 

Stiles allowed Heather to lead him to the left side of the room while Scott sat down beside Allison about a quarter of the way around the circle to Stiles’ right. Everyone else filled in the gaps or giggled excitedly as Lydia placed an empty vodka bottle in the middle of the circle. She was going to spin to find out who would go first, calling out for any last players before she did.

At the last second, Derek slipped into the room and edged his way between to people on the right side of the room--directly across the circle from Stiles. Beside him, Heather pinched his thigh until he glanced at her and she winked at him. When Stiles looked back up at Derek he was staring at Heather with a flat expression but his eyes were heatedly boring into her. 

“Okay, the first person to spin is… Isaac Lahey,” Lydia called out. 

“And we’re off,” Stiles murmured, as he watched Isaac lean forward, grasp the bottle, and spin it lightly. The bottle did a couple rotations before settling on Scott who blushed. Allison didn’t seem to mind as she eyed Isaac and Scott when they crawled to meet each other over the bottle and kissed lightly on the lips with no hesitation. 

Stiles watched half-heartedly, distracted by Heather’s insistence that Derek liked him. When the bottle barely passed him by he didn’t even notice until she groaned beside him and he looked up to watch Greenberg on his left kiss Danny. Danny didn’t seem to enjoy the experience but when he spun the bottle landed on Derek. 

Derek stood so Danny had to as well, but he didn’t seem to mind. He sized Derek up as they met just outside the circle with all eyes on them. No one had seen Derek so much as express interest in someone else before, so this was a spectacle for everyone in the cheap seats. It was also why Stiles had such a hard time imagining Derek liking him. 

Danny stepped in and tried to make his kiss with Derek impressive as some players offered wolf whistles and hoots. Stiles frowned and tried to tamp down the uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Derek, however, politely offered Danny a peck on the cheek and then sat down without fanfare so Danny had to return to his seat looking a little dejected. 

Stiles rested his chin in his hand propped up on his knee as Derek carefully lined the bottle up and stared hard at it before spinning. It was harder than the other players and spun at least double what everyone else did. As it slowed Stiles lifted his head and watched it closely until … it landed… on

“I think that’s Heather,” Lydia spoke up a few seats to Derek’s right.

“Nah, it’s on Stiles,” Scott piped up. 

“Maybe he gets both,” Erica offered in a silky tone. 

“It’s still too early for the orgy to start,” Jackson threw in and Stiles was only half sure he was joking. 

Heather sat up on her knees and shrugged. “I mean, I guess Derek gets to choose--”

“Stiles.”

Stiles looked up sharply and everyone else was staring back at him. Including Derek who was looking at him intensely from across the circle.

“Sure?” he got out from a mouth that felt like it was filled with cotton all of a sudden. He wished he hadn’t had any of the beer, or that he carried gum on him. Maybe he could find some mint schnapps or there was a jar of mints somewhere?

Stiles took his time getting to his feet because Derek was already standing and waiting for him. His legs felt a little wobbly from sitting on the floor and that’s all he tried to tell himself it was. Heather’s words echoed in his mind as he stepped up to Derek who was watching him with an unreadable expression. 

He kept his hands to his sides and waited for Derek to step in and peck him on the lips like an awkward middle schooler’s first kiss but it didn’t come and Derek kept staring at him. Stiles could hear some whispers from the circle but he didn’t dare look away.

“Woo, yeah!” Erica cried out and started clapping. A couple other people giggled and Jackson muttered something under his breath that Stiles didn’t hear but Derek obviously did. He snarled and that made Jackson wince but his eyes never left Stiles. His heart was pounding so hard and fast in his chest he was sure his pulse points were practically bouncing. More whispers and unmuffled laughing finally drew Stiles’ attention and he glanced down as his cheeks reddened. 

Lydia huffed impatiently. “The point of the game is to kiss people. If you’re not going to--” 

Derek growled lowly in his chest and reached out to grab Stiles by the arm and tugged him away from the circle.

“Hey, this isn’t Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Lydia yelled indignantly. Stiles heard someone laughingly tell her to give up and keep going and the game seemed to resume.

Stiles spared a glance back at the circle and saw Heather giving him the thumbs up seconds before he was ushered through a door and into… a dark closet.

“Um.”

“Sorry,” Derek murmured. Stiles heard some fumbling and then the tight space was filled with the cool blue-tinged light from Derek’s cell phone. 

“What are we doing?” Stiles asked, gesturing to the coats and garment bags hanging around them.

“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of them,” Derek told him in such a grumbling tone.

“Oh,” Stiles said hollowly, immediately thinking the worst. After all, Derek kissed Danny in front of everyone so that could only mean one thing. “You don’t have to kiss me.”

Derek seemed to do a double take at Stiles and gave him a bewildered look. “No, I mean I didn’t want to kiss you _in front of them_.” Stiles must have still had a confused, potentially wounded look on his face because Derek huffed out a hard breath of air, stepped forward to cup his cheeks carefully, and kissed him.

Stiles froze immediately and his arms hung at his sides uselessly. Derek angled Stiles’ head as he kissed him lightly, taking his time and allowing Stiles the chance to pull away.

Stiles didn’t, however. He actually took a step forward into Derek’s space and brought his hands up to clutch at Derek’s arms. Derek smiled against his lips and Stiles swore he heard a quiet, pleased grumble from Derek’s chest. Stiles wanted to wind his arms around Derek’s waist or neck, pull him closer until he was laying over top of him on the floor. He wanted to feel Derek’s hair through his fingers and his lips further down his body. He wanted--

A loud pounding on the door and Jackson’s voice was like a bolt of lightning storming between them. “You can’t fuck in the closets! My parents don’t like it when they find jizz in their shoes!” 

Derek almost fell backward into the coats while Stiles stumbled over some shoes before finding the handle and pushing the door open. He jumped out clumsily, trying not to get caught in the dry cleaner bags. Derek followed him but Stiles was already making a beeline for the door, heart pounding and cheeks burning.

“Stiles, hey! Hey, where are you going?” Scott asked as he ran after Stiles.

“I gotta get out of here,” Stiles said quickly. Scott gave him a worried look but Stiles waved him off. “It’s fine, I swear. I just have to get home.”

Stiles disappeared into the mix of other party goers and was in his Jeep driving home within minutes.

***

By the time Stiles pulled into his driveway he had a bunch of missed texts. A couple were from Scott from earlier in the evening but the most recent ones were him telling Stiles that Derek left immediately after him and to text when he got home okay.

Stiles did, sending Scott a quick message that he was home and going to bed, then turned the ringer off on his phone in case Scott persisted. The other messages were from Heather who sent him a couple sneaky snaps of when he and Derek were facing off before Derek pulled him into the closet.

Stiles let out a frustrated yell and slammed the door to the Jeep closed a bit too hard when he got out. Once he got in the house he didn’t bother with any lights until he got to his room where he shut the door and leaned against it tiredly.

“How did all this happen?” he mumbled to himself as he stripped off his hoodie and shoes, shoved his pants down and pulled his t-shirt over his head impatiently.

His skin felt tight and his mind was racing. Had someone slipped someone into the beer he drank half of, if he was lucky? Was he getting sick? Did someone pass him the flu? If Derek could carry infections like humans Stiles likely caught something, considering how deeply they kissed. 

Stiles fell back on his bed and closed his eyes, remembering the moment less than twenty minutes earlier. He wondered how far things would have gone between them if Jackson hadn’t knocked on the door so rudely. How far they _could_ have gone. 

Why _him_ , though. If Heather was right, and judging by Derek’s reaction to maybe or maybe not landing on Stiles it seemed she was, how was any of this possible? He and Derek had hardly any interaction in the past few years and had known each other since childhood. 

“Maybe he hit his head,” Stiles mused while he trailed the fingers of one hand up and down his torso, dragging them lower and lower on each pass until they hit the band of his boxers. 

Stiles thought about the feeling of Derek’s hands on his cheeks in the dark and how carefully he cradled his face as he kissed him thoroughly. Stiles imagined the weight of Derek spread out over him on his bed, pressing him down into the mattress because he wanted to completely envelop him. 

Stiles pushed his boxers down and grasped his cock, gripping it so he could feel it thicken as fantasies of Derek kissing him everywhere took over. He didn’t even need to imagine Derek naked or doing more than kissing. The idea of spending hours just making out fully clothed made Stiles want to whine and beg to feel Derek’s whole body holding him down. He moaned and stroked himself lightly while trying to pin down what Derek smelled like up close. It was close to petrichor, or the fresh clean smell of new growth in the spring when winter has finally started to fade away. 

That scent always made Stiles feel hope and like there were opportunities and potential for new and exciting adventures in every day. It reminded him of moments in his childhood and safety. 

And then he was remembering that feeling with that scent while Derek kissed him soft and slow and he was so _hot_ , physically radiating heat. It was sensory overload for Stiles who finally understood what other people meant when they told him he had a vivid imagination.

His orgasm built quickly and only took the thought of exploring Derek’s mouth with his tongue to push him over the edge, coming over his abdomen sloppily. He usually reached for a t-shirt or tissues when he made a mess but this time he rubbed his come into his skin without fully realizing he did it until he was done.

“This is something new,” he mumbled to himself. He wondered what Derek would say and do if they were together right now and just like that his cock twitched with new life. Stiles frowned down at his body but reached for his lube that he kept in his bedside table.

“At least I’m getting something out of tonight,” he breathed as he closed his slick hand around the head of his cock, already trying valiantly for round two.


End file.
